


The Fall of Eagles

by Husaria



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen, Post-World War I, Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 17:36:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1656755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Husaria/pseuds/Husaria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Poland and Austria talk after the dissolution of the Austro-Hungarian Empire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fall of Eagles

It was amazing what a piece of paper and pen can do. With it, one could write a novel, volumes and volumes of essays, papers of philosophy, science, religion. With it, one could end a marriage.

The wheels on his wheelchair squeaked as he pushed himself away from the table. Beside him, Karl Renner and the other Austrian delegates gathered their papers. Around them, the other delegates were preparing to leave as well. The deed had been done. The Allies’ ultimatum had worked. Austria was no longer an empire, and Austria was no longer united with Hungary.

Shame burned his face. He couldn’t believe that he had been forced— _him_!  _forced_!—into signing the declaration—a declaration written without the input from him and his people. After everything that had happened to him, the loss of his empire and the use of his legs, he believed that the worst of the outcome of the war had passed. The political aspect of the treaty deeply wounded him, but the personal aspect broke him.

“Roderich, I’m going to speak to Clemenceau,” Renner told him, catching up with Austria and his wheelchair.

“Would you like me to come?” Austria asked.

“I don’t think that would be necessary. Francis won’t be there. You can take a recess.”

Austria sighed. “Thank you.”

“Edelstein?”

“Yes, sir?”

Renner looked over Austria, over that weak, bony frame, melancholy eyes, weary expression.

“Be strong, Edelstein,” he said. He turned on his heels and headed across the room.

Austria gave his new ruler one last look before going out of the door.

He gazed at the elegant walls of the château, adorned with paintings of important French figures and rulers. Just like Schönbrunn. What would become of it? The Habsburgs wouldn’t be living in it any longer. Would it become a shell, a ghost of grandeur and elegance of a time long past?

The smell of fresh flowers drifted through the air as Austria made his way to the gardens. The flowers here weren’t as beautiful as the ones in Schönbrunn, he noticed with his enduring pride—crisp roses, orchids, chrysanthemums. The winding paths and bushes all led to the Grand Terrace. He would have gotten there faster if it weren’t for that damned wheelchair. If his legs worked.

“Roderich?”

“Not now, I’m bus—”

Austria’s eyes widened, and he whirled around.

_“Po—Feliks?”_

Poland stood by a bushel of red roses. A petal fell off from one of them and landed on the ground in front of him. He stepped on it as he made his way to Austria.

“I didn’t expect to see you out here,” Poland said.

“All of the others are.” Austria looked away. “See, there’s Francis and Arthur.”

“Yeah, but I kinda thought—” He put his hands in his pockets, the thumbs sticking out. “You know, with everything going on—”

“With  _what_?” Austria said softly. He mustn’t look away. He met the sharp green gaze of Poland with his weary violet one. Poland was his subordinate—his subordinate for 123 years.

“You shouldn’t look at me with such arrogance in your eyes.” Austria’s voice grew sharper.

“You’re one to talk,” Poland said.

“Why did you call my name?”

“You looked lonely.”

A lie, Austria figured. When was the last time Poland was selfless enough to approach someone because they were “lonely”?

“I’m perfectly fine,” Austria replied, turning away his wheelchair. “I don’t know why you would want to talk with me, Feliks.”

“I’m pretty sure you know why I wanna talk to you.”

Austria headed towards the terrace. “I do not.”

“Oh come on.” Poland walked beside him. “I know what you’re going through.”

The nerve of this man. Austria expressed his disgust through a scoff.

“You liar,” he hissed. “How dare you presume to understand what I am going through, what I’m feeling! You have no idea what it’s like to be this humiliated, to feel this…this  _wretched_  and worthless.”

Poland laughed a laugh that made shivers run down Austria’s spine.

“Gosh, you’re so  _stupid_ , aren’t you?” Poland hissed. “Did you seriously forget what you did to me in the 1700s? Did you  _really_  forget?” With each word, Poland’s voice rose in sharpness and for an instant, Austria didn’t see Poland in front of him, but instead a great tower of a man, looming over him, the ruler of Eastern Europe.

“How the  _hell_  did you think I felt?” he repeated.

Austria looked at him, holding his own against those green eyes before turning away.

“That was a long time ago. This is different.”

“How?”

“ _How_? I  _was_ —am—the Austrian Empire, the ruler of Central Europe.”

Feliks laughed harshly. “Oh my God, you’re such a joke.”

_“Excuse me?”_

“God, this is so pathetic; I can’t even…Are you dumb enough to seriously forget  _why_  I’m talking to you in the first place?”

A bulge rose in Austria’s throat and he gripped the armrests of the wheelchair so tightly he could have broken them at one time.

“How dare you address me like that!”

“Well, how dare  _you_  think to know how I felt?” Poland snapped. “How the Hell did you think I felt when you three took away the Commonwealth? When Ivan took  _Toris_  from me? Don’t you think that’s not even the slightest similar to what you’re going through?”

Some people looked up at the rise of Poland’s voice. Austria shifted his eyes warily.

“Feliks, perhaps we should take this in a more private area.”

“Fine.”

They went to an emptier area of the terrace. Austria turned his head towards the view. He saw the skyline of Paris, the Eiffel Tower rising from the city center. He saw the River Seine winding like a snake. A memory resurfaced.

“The last time I was in Paris was for Chopin’s funeral.” He didn’t know what compelled him to speak of that. “He is one of my favorite composers, even if he is a Pole.” He was sure that Poland made a face at that, but he didn’t care to look at him. “That was a long time ago. I remember Liszt was the organist and that’s why Ersz—”

He paused as a sudden lump rose through his throat.

“Erszébet,” he finished. “Erszébet was with me too.”

“I was there too,” Poland said, the softest he’d spoken to Austria today. “Erszi brought me with her.”

Austria felt a glint of irritation as Poland used Hungary’s human nickname. “So she did.”

“You miss her.” Poland didn’t look at Austria, but he put his arms on the balustrade of the terrace.

“It’s only natural,” Austria said distantly. “She lived with me for centuries.”

“For a music man, you’re so stiff.” Poland chuckled. “I know you loved her. Anyone who, like, saw you two could see it.”

“I did,” Austria concluded. He took a deep breath. “I still do.”

Poland looked at him. “I can tell.”

“It just…” Austria groped for words. “It hurts. Someday it feels as though I can’t breathe. I conduct my business with an unseen wound in my chest. The war crushed my legs and my spirit, and the dissolution of the union crushed my heart.”

Poland gave Austria an expression of such pity and sympathy. One of his hands still touched the railing. Austria could still hear Poland’s wailing and screaming from 1795. Not even Hungary and Italy could quell that storm.

“Is that how you felt?” Austria asked tentatively. “All those years ago?”

It took a while for Poland to reply. “Yes.”

Austria sat in silence.

“Liet was taken away from me, and now Hungary is being taken away from you,” Poland said.

“Divine retribution,” Austria sighed.

“No, not divine retribution.” Poland turned to Austria. “I’ve hated you at so many points in my life—Gilbert and Iva—no, I still hate Ivan. But I’d never wish this for you. It was one of the most painful and humiliating and lonely moments of my life.” Austria knew that he wasn’t only speaking of his separation from Lithuania.

Poland was once great, Austria mused. He was once a kingdom larger than Austria ever was and ever will be. He stretched from the Baltic to the Black Sea. He brought Prussia to his knees and captured Russia’s former capital. His borders were less than half of what they once were. Poland was once as great as Austria, except his time had come sooner.

“What do I do?” Austria asked. “How did you…how did you deal with these feelings?”

Poland smiled slightly. “The most you can do is make the most out of your situation and look to the future. They don’t call me the phoenix for nothing.” He laughed. “It won’t be easy. It won’t be, but it’ll get better. I know you’ll totally get through this.”

“And Erszébet?”

“Talk to her,” Poland said. “So you’re… _technically_  divorced. That doesn’t mean she hates you. I’m still talking to Liet, and we all know what happened to  _us_.” Austria didn’t want to point out that his and Hungary’s union was dissolved mutually whereas Poland and Lithuania were forcibly partitioned apart. “She probably misses you too.”

“Really?” Austria asked. “I mean…I don’t want to be too hasty.”

“Don’t be then. Just  _talk_.”

“We can. I may write a letter to her.”

“Oh suck it up and do it.”

“Don’t speak to me so rudely.”

“Whatever.” Poland rolled his eyes. “I think I have to leave soon. Liet keeps saying  _‘Vilnius, Vilnius, Vilnius’_ , and it’s getting  _so annoying_  and I have to do something about it.”

“I hope everything goes well between you two.”

“Yeah I’m pretty sure it will. It’s just me and Liet. Now if only Ivan can get out of my borders so I can get a clear head. God, ever since his government changed, he’s been all weird.” Poland shook his head. “Anyways…”

“Thank you.”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you, Feliks.  _Dziękuję_.” Ever since Galicia was taken from him, Austria had a harder and harder time remembering Polish. “Thank you for the advice and your helpful words. I-I must admit you aren’t exactly the person I’d expect to talk to about this but…”

“Don’t worry about it. I hate seeing you look the way I looked a century ago.”

_“Feliks!”_

“Ah, that’s my boss. See ya, Roderich.”

“Good bye, Feliks.”

He watched him go. Poland had a light step to his gait, like a trotting horse. Austria rubbed his glasses and put them back on, but for a moment in his vision, Poland stood as tall as an empire.


End file.
